The Three(ish) Actors
by kesdax
Summary: Dear Mr Davison, we regret to inform you that your script, The Five(ish) Doctors Reboot: A Sequel - The Doctors Take Manhattan, has been unsuccessful…


**A/N: **That sequel to _The Five(ish) Doctors _that nobody asked for.

* * *

"Absolute rubbish," states Colin, handing the letter over to Sylvester.

"No target audience..." Sylvester reads. "Poppycock..."

"Yes, well," says Peter, snatching the letter back and folding it neatly into his pocket. "There's always next year."

"Next year!" Colin splutters. "The hype will have died down by then. They'll have forgotten us!"

"Hardly," scoffs Peter, "we're the Doctors! Nobody is going to forget us."

"Yes, when one has starred in a major motion picture, one is hard to forget," says Sylvester reasonably.

"Oh, shut up," say the other two.

* * *

"Are you even going to bother reading that script?" asks Colin.

"I read them!" says Peter.

Colin scoffs. "Flicking through it five minutes before you go into the booth to make sure you can pronounce all the words doesn't count."

"I'll have you know that I take this job very seriously," Peter protests.

"Liar," says Colin.

"I hear You-Know-Who's here again," says Sylvester.

"Who, Voldemort?" says Peter stupidly.

Colin rolls his eyes. "No, the _other_ one..."

"Oh, you mean-"

"Don't say the name!"

"He's here?" Peter asks, outraged. "_Again?_"

Sylvester nods. "Apparently he's negotiating with Nick to get on the monthly range," he whispers.

"There's not enough room!" Peter complains. "They already gave Paul a series and a boxset to give us a decent run - he can't have everything."

"Well, You-Know-Who wants a bite of the big apple."

"We'd lose an audio each!"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," says Colin. "Three a year plus specials is a decent number."

"It's hardly worth the bloody petrol as it is getting up here!"

"At least the biscuits are good," Sylvester comments, dunking a chocolate digestive into his tea.

The others ignore him.

"Just wait until they get a licence for the New Ones," says Colin. "Then we'll all be out of a job."

"They wouldn't," says Peter.

"They would," says Colin.

"But Nick loves us," Peter insists.

"Yes," Sylvester agrees, "but we all know the New Ones make more money."

"That's what happens when your sole income is a niche market," says Colin miserably.

"It's hardly my sole income," Peter snaps.

"Yes," agrees Sylvester, "we could always do more conventions…" He trails off, distracted by movement in the corridor.

"Is that one of Paul's ones?" Sylvester asks, staring dreamily at the young blonde girl walking down the corridor.

"Probably," mutters Peter. "He always gets the young ones."

"I sometimes get young ones!" protests Colin.

"Yes," Peter agrees, "that's because nobody liked your Doctor and they were trying to spice you up."

"Nonsense," says Colin. "I'll have you know I have a very large fan following."

"Whatever," Peter mutters.

"Well," pipes up Sylvester, "it's not quite the following compared to starring in a box office smash hit-"

"Oh, shut up!"

* * *

It's always awkward when a New One turns up at the same convention.

"Is that him?" asks Sylvester. "I think it's him."

"It's him," says Colin. "Look at him, smug git."

"What do you mean?" asks Peter.

"Oh, come on," snaps Colin. He puts on a prissy voice, "'I'm in my mid-fifties and I'm the Doctor - I've only just hit my prime.' Git."

"Git," Sylvester agrees.

"He seemed alright when I did that TV thing," says Peter reasonably.

"Must you rub it in that you're still doing TV?" Colin complains.

"Yes," agrees Sylvester, "it's not like it was a motion picture."

"Shut up."

* * *

"Oh Christ!" shouts Peter and pushes the other two behind a bin down an alley.

"Ouch, my foot," Colin complains. "You've ruined my new Crocs!"

"I'll buy you another pair," Peter hisses.

"They're limited edition," says Colin, "you can't get them in this colour anymore."

"Shh," Peter orders.

"What's going on?" asks Sylvester, his voice muffled as his face is pressed up against the wall.

"It's him," says Peter.

"Who?" asks Colin, interest piqued and Crocs forgotten.

"_Him_," says Peter. "You-Know-Who."

"They've let him out?" asks Colin, astonished.

"Are you sure?" asks Sylvester.

"They never let him out," says Colin.

"Who's they?" asks Peter.

"They," says Colin. "Them. People… I don't know. He never goes out."

"Who's he with?" asks Sylvester.

Peter shrugs. "Some young thing."

"Young thing?" says Colin.

"Rubbish," says Sylvester.

"Remember who we're talking about," says Peter.

"Oh," says Sylvester, "right."

"Ah," says Colin.

"You'd think that he'd calm down a bit, now that he's turned eighty," says Peter, peering around the wall to get a better look.

"Is he gone yet?" asks Sylvester, "This isn't the most comfortable position."

"Oh, really?" says Colin in mock astonishment. "I would have thought you'd be used to crawling about in hobbit holes."

"Shut up."

* * *

"Ask him."

"No."

"Go on, ask him."

"No," Peter snaps.

"Alright lads?" says David.

"David!" say Colin and Sylvester brightly, "wonderful to see you!"

Peter grimaces.

"Ask him," Colin mutters, elbowing Peter in the side.

"Ask me what?" says David innocently.

"Peter has something he'd like you to look at," says Sylvester.

"Oh?" says David.

"Um…" says Peter and receives another elbow in the ribs. "Right." He hands the script over to David.

"Oh no," says David, holding his hands up in protest. "You promised."

"We thought you could show it to some of your TV friends," says Colin eagerly.

"Or maybe your theatre friends," adds Sylvester.

"Anyone really," says Colin.

"No," David says firmly. "Georgia!" he yells. "They're at it again!"

"Oh, bugger," says Peter.

"Well, I think it's time for us to be going," says Colin and marches Sylvester out the front door.

"Dad!" Georgia yells.

Peter runs for it.

* * *

"Don't do it Colin."

"You've been to the jungle," says Sylvester, "you've done your duty."

"Nope!" says Colin. "I'm doing it and that's final."

Peter groans.

"This is going to end in tears," says Sylvester.

"That's it," says Colin, "letter posted. No going back now."

"You do realise what you've just done?" asks Peter.

"Yes," says Colin slowly.

"You," says Peter, "Colin Baker, have just applied for _Dancing on Ice._"

"Ah," says Colin.

"Oh dear," says Sylvester.

"Maybe it's not too late," Colin yells and jams his hand through the slot in the post box.

"You're going to get stuck in there," Sylvester remarks.

"I can't do _Dancing on Ice_!" Colin yells.

"Yes," says Sylvester, "we know that."

"We did try to tell you," says Peter reasonably.

"Pub?" asks Sylvester.

"Pub," Peter agrees.

"Wait," says Colin. "You can't leave me here!"

"We'll see you at Gallifrey One," Sylvester calls. Peter waves goodbye over his shoulder.

"Peter!" yells Colin. "Sylvester! Come back!"

Bugger.


End file.
